Dance with the Devil: Chapter 2
by 6Insanity6Painted6Black9
Summary: a short part emphasizing his interest in "the Dark Lord" whomever that may be
1. Dance with the Devil

The boy was lying on the sofa, stretched out, his head on the squishy pillows at one end, his booted feet up on the armrest at the other end, the firelight of the fireplace flickering in his blue-gray eyes, his fair skin seeming to have color from the lights. No one disturbed his deep, careless thoughts nor did anyone disturb the room…or even think about him.

This unique teenage boy was named Scabior, no other name, _just_ Scabior, and despite living with the Malfoys, he was not a very sophisticated young wizard but he had grown an ego and pride that even a Malfoy could never match up to.

Currently Abraxas Malfoy and his wife were upstairs with a stranger and many other men and women. This was unfortunately not new, the stranger had came by at least once a week for the past few years that Scabior could remember being here, a dark haired stranger who was passed his teens, probably early thirties or his late twenties.

The stranger was referred to as 'My Lord' by Lucius, Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy, and the many others that had come by, including the Blacks, Lestranges, some of their children, some just as old as Scabior but he had never been permitted to meet this so-called lord. The stranger had always come wearing black robes and a dark hood, had once came with a black diary, many times wearing that same ring, his skin color was light and his eyes almost seeming red, evil, but it didn't take a look at his eyes just to know he was evil.

Evil truly was not a word Scabior would usually use but he could never think of another word for that appearance and aura. Dark wasn't the right word and that would usually be what Scabior would describe it as, he'd even given the stranger a nickname; Dark Lord. After a few times of seeing this stranger, in Scabior's head, he'd always referred to this man, before now, as the Dark Lord, but unfortunately he'd heard a witch call him the very same thing so it lost its appeal.

He himself was getting restless lying around thinking of this stranger who had come over too many times to be ignorable and seemed too important to be just no one, besides, if he was no one, why would so many people Abraxas was unacquainted with, come over so many times and why would he be called elsewhere by a stupid tattoo on his arm? This stranger, this Dark Lord, has never once addressed Scabior and much less, he had never looked at him or had interest in him but who had many times, even now, caught Scabior's attention and deathly curiosity. The one thing Scabior knew was normal about himself was that he was so desperately curious about everything and so willing to find out what he wanted through any method he needed to do so with.

That's what was growing inside of Scabior right now, a curiosity that could be bad for him, not that it wasn't before now, but this curiosity was making him restless, he wanted to know, and he made it so he _always_ got what he wanted, no matter what obstacles were in the way, he would diminish them and get his goal.

This man, this "Lord" was upstairs with the purebloods and halfbloods who worshipped him, the several hooded people who called themselves "Death Eaters" and in which included the Malfoys and he was merely lying around _thinking_ about this stranger.

The just fifteen year old was slightly disgusted with himself, not satisfying his curiosity when the chance had come many times so he stood and his eyes swept the room and scanned all windows and the doors before he went to the hallway where Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy had lead the stranger, seeing the stairs clearly as if he were in front of them. Because they appeared closer to him than they were, Scabior put his hand out to test it and his hand was flat on a shield which felt slightly like rubber. He snarled his revulsion, glaring at the stairs he could see too easily.

They wanted to keep _him_ away from who had been taunting him for so long, absorbing his sanity to the point of annoyance? He thought not. Being an underage wizard, he really couldn't use magic out of school without the high possibility of expulsion but he knew two other ways. Inside this very room, there was a secret door even the Malfoys, being the owners of this manor, did not know existed. This secret door was hidden off to the side of the fireplace where a spell was cast by an ancient Malfoy housewife so no one would be able to pass through or find.

But Scabior was sneaky and he knew tricks, he had learned some things from a small few students at Hogwarts, Slytherin, who as well referred to themselves as "Death Eaters" and had said that they would later be bounty hunters for this curious Lord.

Scabior had been interested in this, he would prove himself better than them all without learning their tricks. It had taken two years but he had learned to create gaps or holes in protective spells and the shields cast by magic but he had done it. The intrusion was completely unique, learned and founded by he alone and he held pride, pride that would cause him to murder someone if they _dared_ steal it from him or claim it as their spell.

This was one of the ideas, the other would be to go through Abraxas Malfoy's shield but the spell had a chance of being broken and would hurt Scabior _and_ the wizard who cast the spell and he did have a _little _care for Abraxas Malfoy.

He opened the spell slowly and carefully, it was not literally a spell and required no wand, but he would never give up his wand to anybody he did not trust…and he trusted few, no one at school, no one at home, no one elsewhere and the little respect he did have for people was for the few who taught him something he found useful or interesting yet he still thought himself above everyone, making him a very sly, gifted, Slytherin.

Scabior smiled at his work as he found a gap, it took patience for sure and he had that, just not for many things. He checked the room again and went through the gap which snapped back in place when he was through it and he was in a bedroom.

After second year in which he'd learned the levitation charm, he'd found out that this bedroom was the grave for many men, a library full of death records and dark spells, and the only place the Malfoy housewife in the past had enjoyed. He knew this from reading the blood red diary lying on the pillow with a red feather and a tall skeleton wearing a very old-fashioned dress was and always had been, since her death, lying there, the skull on the pillow but never crumbling, a white-wood wand lying on the skeleton and dress under the hands that lie on the chest.

Her name was Roza Lilia Malfoy and she was obsessed with death and was held to be burned to death but she'd put it out and went back to her manor where she would eternally rest by having a serpent bite her and inject her with its poison. Scabior crossed the room, remembering the fun he'd had in this room when he was younger when Abraxas and his wife couldn't find him, but, a smile sneaking onto his face, he just passed to a door that was also hidden and found himself by a set of stairs, a door to his left, this one on the left being used very often.

Although young, Scabior was now very sneaky, dark, and intelligent, very sarcastic too, he gave his guardians a lot of trouble. They often threatened to curse him with the Cruciatus, or else to beat him til he bled but they'd only acted on that once. He could dodge anything, even death. That's what he kept saying to himself, he could dodge any spell, he was quick and agile and really did tick his guardians off by dodging so much that they were tired and stuck with grounding. Of course he didn't pride himself for nothing, he was sneaky enough that even grounding him never stopped him; when he wanted to do something or go somewhere, no matter why it was stated that he couldn't, he would do it. No one would stop him.

Scabior went up the stairs then into a hallway only lit by candles in brackets on the walls, the heavy carpeting muffling the sound of his heavy boots hitting the floor although it would have been quiet enough nonetheless. His senses became more alert as he saw a door with flickering lights coming from under the door and into the hall, like flames except white and green, voices, moans, and muffled yells coming from that very same room.

Moans of terror, moans that were trying to hold in screams, the yells seeming to be from angry people, not the fearful guests that were trying so hard not to scream when even Scabior knew it would be so much better for them to cry out. But there was a voice, one doing most of the yelling, it sounded male and almost snake-like, like he could breath…live forever, cold, dark, almost creepy, chill worthy but to ignorant Scabior, it sounded much like one who looked for respect through fear.

Scabior got slightly excited when a woman's fearful moan was heard, just feeling it in his gut that she was in pain; it made his heart race. Yes this was usual but excitement? He'd never felt that from hearing one in pain, he'd never liked it nor did he disapprove of it, he was msot often careless but now he seemed strangely happy.

'What 'as gotten into me?' Scabior thought, shaking the thoughts from his mind and as much of the feeling from his body, wishing against the moon and stars that he could be closer than this, that he could see what he was hearing.

But no, they did not answer his wish, nothing would but himself, but he just stuck with pressing his ear to the wall, his entire body against it, his eyes closed, as close to the door as he could be without being in front of it; that was sure to give him away. Frustrated though he was, he couldn't help but smile, pleased with himself, eavesdropping on this man that the Malfoys thought to be so powerful, so intelligent and knowing, but he was making this person out to be a fool, a fool that was possibly their lord only out of fear, nothing more, nothing less, cuz even he, Scabior, wasn't arrogant enough to think he could defeat a real wizard lord, a real man with real power and strength.

But Hell, what was real magic and real power, huh? He himself had it and he had confidence in them all, he was sure no one could defeat him and he was a great duelist, yet he would leave it until he had to do so. He could tell someone to do something and they would do it, Lucius, many students at school, both elder and younger than he, some adults he'd came across he'd intimidated, the Blacks would, they just weren't so quick to do so, and Severus Snape…well, Scabior never really bothered with Severus , maybe he was intelligent and a very good wizard but he got too much crap from James Potter and his friends and he really had no care to command someone who was too busy to do what was asked and Severus was obviously, to Scabior alone, to be a leader some day.

Thoughts left his mind and he was rather relaxed, listening in on the meeting, these wizards speaking of killing muggles and muggleborns, that half bloods would be killed as well but they could wait for a lot longer. He would not necessary go through the trouble of _killing_ muggles and mudbloods but he would still think purebloods were better than others but still, the idea of killing those who do not deserve to have magic in their blood, _that_ was tempting. People were a lot more interesting alive though, were they not because really, what would he get from a corpse?

On the other hand, it's not a like a muggleborn _meant_ to be born and it wasn't a half blood's fault that their parents had shagged or a squib's fault that they had no magic in them when they deserved it more than a mudblood. But they would be taught that it was okay to breed with muggles or mud bloods then they would do so and too many would exist. All three sides had a point but one and three won over two easily so his decision on the matter was made.

Decisions came quick to him, he was a fast-thinker, very clever and cunning, and he could move around any loophole and all those valuable, useful skills just so he could have fun…but fun was a great piece of his life, one he would never let go, he loved it and he loved to tease people, play with them and misguide them.

Scabior started humming very softly to himself without even realizing it, blocking the voices in the room without noticing at all but still no one was around and no one in the room was coming towards the door, he heard everything and easily so but he didn't hear the words, just the sound of talking, pacing, and even violent jerking.

His happiness was now changing as he heard the victim give up and really scream their feelings out, not hiding themselves but his desire also increased and made him wish even more that he was in that room with the others. Scabior never viewed himself as sadistic and even now he didn't think he was. Pain was just a beautiful thing to enjoy, not something that different from the sunset's beauty, the same sweet colors, the showing true self, a release of all the stress and true pain that was hidden within and a simple thing, a misunderstood thing, pain, was the art that excited him, not that it hurt so much but that was also what kicked the art up to divine.

Very darkly romantic Scabior was, seeing what others could not, challenging who others would never, putting words together so eerie and hypnotic, the fact that he didn't believe there was sadists or evil, all just beautiful art expressing what something truly is, what it was meant to be, and just how very fragile humans were.

No one could change his twisted mind, no one would stand up to him to do so, and even if one would dare, he would back that person down and play with the little toys he could make of them, the dark little mind he had.

Scabior tasted his lips and glanced down the hall quickly, rather pleased with this new feeling he had for the screams. No one else was in the hall and it sounded like no other person was approaching him at all, not even from the room. Sneaking around had adrenaline to it and he could not say he hated it but still it was mostly the power that he liked so much, spying on the unknowing, moving between those staring right at him; it was more power than the most powerful wizard had.

It'd been an hour and still there was nothing interesting going on, other than Scabior's ego in his head, the only amusement was that he hadn't been caught so far…and he wouldn't be, not by the so-called Lord in the room. He was going to have a good ride, really.


	2. Dance with the Devil: Curiosity

Minutes later after the long hour, Scabior heard very soft footsteps, almost silent like they were sneaking as he was but with his alert ears, he had heard and immediately turned away from the wall and he was facing another hooded figure who appeared to be walking to that same room many others were in, but this one was_very_ late.

Instead of black and almost death-like robes with a silvery mask, this person was wearing a really dark purple silk cloak, the sleeves in which covered the arms and hands, the hood which shrouded the new face, and the rest hiding whatever was worn underneath.

The person stopped and watched him and he, although he couldn't see the stranger's face, stared right back. The moments of silence were driving him crazy as his eyes took in the whole person again, bottom to top.

"Who're you?" he spat, glaring suspiciously.

The hooded person must've smiled or reacted somehow, he just knew it, but it was nothing he could see and he was sure the sleeves weren't long enough to have a wand hidden but even if it was, he was quick, he'd dodged a lot.

"Answer me!" Scabior ordered, his eyes narrowing.

The person's hand lifted up calmly but he jumped back and drew his wand so the other dropped their arm by their side again, passing him, looking straight at him until they opened the door and was gone, not saying a word to the Dark Lord by what he heard.

"Bloody 'ell," Scabior said, watching the door.

"Damn woman," he whispered to himself, his thoughts and words blocking the voices that came from the room.

Just for the moments he'd been around her, Scabior was sure it was a woman, probably older than himself too. What man would wear that color in _silk_ or really even that much of that color? What man would have almost an entire inch of fingernails painted red? What straight man would walk the way that person just had?

"Of course 'e might no' be straight," Scabior smirked to himself but he honestly didn't think that was likely.

'Who cares about some woman, she's probably just an attention whore?' he thought, rolling his eyes and he turned back to the wall to listen some more.

Scabior had taught himself to notice a lot of little things most people would overlook and now it came easily, with no conscious, he simply noticed because it was in his interest to do so and only because it was. It never really had been in his interest to notice this "Lord" but some things just made him curious, curiosity was a weakness, but those smaller things such as a woman, a gash across someone's face, a person crying by themselves, for example, just annoyed him because he had no care or interest in them yet would still see.

Then again, his curiosity had only kicked up about the "Dark Lord" because he was spoken about at school, mostly just among the Slytherins and some of them had foolishly branded themselves with what they all called the "Dark Mark" which he thought a stupid name and a stupid idea to mark oneself with their loyalty, no matter how proud.

However, even with his wicked brilliance and his information finding skills and interrogation that seemed innocent, no one would ever speak the name of this Lord, no matter how scared they were that Scabior would hurt them they seemed too afraid or awed to say the name, something Scabior got _so_ impatient with.

When you hit the spot, his temper could be murderous and every time their fear would lead them away from saying the name, they would get closer to seeing his true anger, not just that calm, sarcastic, coldness.

"Shut up," Scabior hissed to himself and he silenced his thoughts to listen in onto what they were saying again.

"This meeting is at an end, leave," a cold and commanding voice said, the voice of the "Lord" that the others were so afraid of, "Raine Lestrange, don't you dare leave, I need to speak with you and you will not leave this house until I do."

"Yes my Lord," an unfamiliar female's voice said.

As he heard dozens of footsteps, Scabior quickly left the hall and as quietly as he could, going all the way back to the living room, expecting many of the "Death Eaters" to come out the door but they all seemed to have apparated, yet he didn't stay to find that out.

"That fucking whore," someone said and Scabior quickly hid, seeing a blonde fourth year girl who had spoken to a darker haired fifth year who looked like she could be the darker version of the very proud-seeming blonde, both with skin as fair.

"I can't stand Rodolphus' cousin, we need to crucio her into telling us what is up with her and the Dark Lord," the darker one agreed spitefully.

"We know what's up, he trusts her more than he trusts you," the blonde said, opening the door to leave with her sister and their conversation faded.

'Bitches,' Scabior thought, going back into the room casually.

He knew both of them from school and both were sisters, as said, with the last name 'Black' a pureblood family, one was Narcissa and the other was Bellatrix and he knew they had a third sister in third year named Andromeda who seemed completely different, more sweet and kind and didn't seem a lot like a Slytherin sometimes.

"Hi," Lucius Malfoy, son of Scabior's guardians, said to Scabior.

Lucius looked rather sleepy and his platinum blonde hair was slightly messy, as if he'd just gotten out of bed and didn't even bother to comb his hair before meeting the Dark Lord with the rest of them.

"'ello fluffy," Scabior smirked.

They were like brothers who loved to pick on each other but Scabior just found happiness from bugging Lucius like that.

"I really should be saying the same to you," Lucius retorted, looking bored and tired.

"Scruffy maybe…but fluffy, ya kiddin me mate," Scabior said, "A cute little bunny rabbit you would make, eh Lucius?"

"I can't understand a word you're saying," Lucius lied.

"Rubbish pumpkin 'ead, you just don't like admitting I piss you off do ya?" Scabior smirked, "I think I'll stick with that."

"Just leave me alone, I'm not in the mood for this," Lucius growled.

"I am," Scabior retorted happily, yanking some of Lucius long-ish hair but not quite hard enough to pull any out.

"Scabior!" Lucius snapped, not liking that one bit.

"Ya?"

"Be nice, he only had four hours of sleep before having to get up again, something you, Scabior, would not understand," Abraxas Malfoy said, walking back into the room to join his son and Mrs. Malfoy was with him, also blonde but her hair was darker.

These two were Scabior's guardians and he hated it a little more than he really should but he dealt with it because it was also somewhat fun.

"Will I ever get to meet this "Lord" of yours?" Scabior asked carelessly.

"Not yet," Mrs. Malfoy said firmly.

"But Lucius gets to, every time you do he sees 'im, I know it," Scabior said coldly but he really didn't care.

He could easily 'run into' this "Lord" and meet him all on his own with his own skills but he had to try the easy way first because it'd use less time and he wouldn't have to plan it but his career interest had many obstacles where he'd most definitely have to use the hard way.

"Lucius is seventeen unlike you young man," Abraxas replied coldly, "Now go get ready for bed, brush your teeth, brush your hair, it's a mess, and sleep."

"Can you at least tell me your Lord's name?" Scabior asked crossly, his heart thumping in hope that he'd find that out finally.

That didn't happen.

"Now!" Mr. Malfoy said firmly.

Scabior sighed dramatically, rolling his eyes and glaring and he walked up to the room he was given to stay in whilst he was here, swearing in his head the whole way up, not liking being younger cuz it was torture…no it was better, it was murder.

Although it was one of the smallest rooms in the entire manor, the room was rather large, too clean for Scabior's liking, too sophisticated too but it was better than an orphanage with a bunch of stinky muggle kids but he was thankful for the luxuries of a hot shower or bath, no matter how many days he could go without one.

The showers was actually one thing he felt that he couldn't live without, he could survive on his own without anything else but he wanted the showers and baths cuz they made him feel good and the feeling of being clean was nice once in a while.

This "Lord" that everyone kept talking about was actually the one who had told the Malfoys to go get him, knowing he was pureblood and a wizard and that was the only reason he was here so Scabior was to be thankful to a face he didn't know.

It bugged him, he did not like the whole thankful thing anyhow, yes he was happy to be alive but to be forced into thankfulness, let alone to someone or something he'd never known just wasn't something he was fond of.

Scabior took a long, hot bath before getting ready for bed and he slept in the comfortable, large bed, doing as much as he could to keep his mind away from the "Lord" so many had spoken about and to keep his mind away from annoyance before he slept.


	3. Dance with the Devil: Two Dreams

Dance with the Devil

"Thank you Starr," he said under his breath to her during their first potion lesson.

"For what? You chopped the hertweeds," she answered easily, glancing at him; those eyes were getting bothersome to him.

"Getting Jo'anna off my back," he told her, looking down and carefully cutting up the shrew beads.

"No problem sweet cheeks," she answered, smirking.

"I wish ye wouldn' say that," he said not so cheerfully.

"I know it!" she heated the pot with the wave of her wand, "Seriously though, we're okay. Don't worry about it."

"We're neve' okay," he seriously said, taking his turn to smirk at her and she rolled her eyes, smiling.

"Hey, so about that Slytherin slapper, when did you two start falling head over tits in love with each other?" Adarte teased, manipulating the new rumor of the school. "I mean, she is dead beautiful but her personality is...dead."

"Ye shut it. I don't even look at 'er, yeah?" Scabior coldly said, not taking it as a joke even though he recognized it to be.

"But you are always going googly eyes over each other, all that hanky panky going on in there. I see it," she persisted, grinning.

"Did ye seriously jus' say 'anky panky?" he asked, grimacing.

"Did you seriously just tell me to shut it?" she asked, cocking her hip but tending to the potion all the same.

"Fair," he murmured.

"So why so bitter?" she asked.

"Ye didn' put any sugar in it and if ye do, I damn well hope you drink it and not me. It could kill ye," he answered.

"That's not what I...hey, you wouldn't mind me dying from a potion we made? You're really that cold?" she said, throwing spare willow twigs at him playfully.

"I would mind cuz then I couldn' make you so 'ot," he smirked evilly.

"Well if ye like me bein' so 'ot then-" she started but he nudged her so she would notice that professor Slughorn was walking their way.

"I'm sure we could get out of another fight unscathed," she whispered tauntingly to him and she looked like she would do it.

"Ye are impossible Starr," he sighed in his accent.

"Sure am. Did you want help with your paper tonight?" she asked casually as Slughorn came close enough what they said would be audible.

"Yeah, definitely. I get 'elp from mudbloods daily," he sarcastically said.

"Now Mr..." Slughorn said but Adarte chuckled and said, "It's okay professor. These guys really need to think of a better comeback. You know how old 'mudblood' is? Also, I am proud of all the dirty blood in all my dirty little veins." She smiled, "Why get offended for it?"

"Regardless of your personal feelings about it Ms. Starr, no uncouthe language is permitted in my classroom during class time," professor Slughorn answered, obviously still upset over what had just been said.

"Ah well...anyways, about the paper Scabior?" she said, looking back at the boy who was much taller than before but not quite as tall as she thought he would get to be.

"Yeah, we could give it a shot," he said, nodding, "Over my dead body."

"I will arrange it then. Meet me in the library," she said as Slughorn walked away with a small chuckle.

"Dungeons," he countered, "I am not goin in the middle of everyone with a mudblood no matter yer inability ta be offended by me."

"Fine, the dungeons, whatever," she said, rolling her eyes and pouring their potion into a tiny vial provided. He smirked clear up until the bell ring and he collected all his things and left the classroom without her.

"Starr, a moment please," professor Slughorn said. She looked worriedly at the clock but then set her bag back down and waited. "I know you mean well trying to change him but don't get yourself hurt. He really does believe all that blood rubbish."

"I am NOT trying to change him professor, I like him just the way he is. He does not believe all that blood stuff, he just has fun with it and seriously, he isn't the most desirable bloke in the world but at least he has passion and understanding," Adarte crossly said. "Is that everything professor?"

"You're just like Lily," he laughed, "Yes there is. I wanted to tell you that your final exam paper was just absolutely brilliant. The ministry is really looking into it now, said it could be a real break through. They are willing to give you enough galleons for in the field healing training."

"Are you for real?" she asked, her blue eyes going wide.

"Completely," he smiled, handing her a signed parchment from the Minister of Magic, just as authentic as could be. She took it, her other hand over her mouth, complete shock taking over her body.

"Th-thank you," she whispered the words she could manage and she left, closing the door behind her and she sat next to that door against the wall, staring at the parchment and the shiny beetle black ink.

"About time. What were ya doin in there?" Scabior said, coming out from behind a suit of armor, smirking. She barely registered what he said but said nothing, looking at him then back at the paper. He snatched it from her, frowning now because she was acting so strange to him.

"I, Minister of Magic, grant Adarte Amethysia Starr full payment in St. Mungo's most prominent healer's school and labratories for four consecutive years. All twelve governors have signed and now I sign my name...whatever the hell those squiggles say, minister of magic," he read aloud, "What's yer problem?"

"I-I don't know I..it just...I don't know if I...oh my god Scabior, this changes everything I've been working on," she told him, still unable to put words and thoughts together at the same time.

"Accept it, tha's always been what you've wanted to do, am I righ?" he told her, sitting next to her, not intending to go to charms at all.

"Yeah," she practically whispered, "It was...is...but I-I've just been-"

"Bu nothin Starr," he said impatiently, lifting her chin so she would look into his eyes; he was then reminded that he hated her eyes and looked away, taking his hands to himself and staring at the opposite wall. "You 'ave nothin to worry about love, you'll do brilliantly, just no buts, okay."

"It doesn't add up," she finally managed, taking a deep breath.

"Yer exam was brilliant Starr, why so surprised?" he asked, cocking his eyebrow and looking at her again. She smiled, just liking the way he looked in that superior but not quite condescending look on his face.

"I'm not...surprised, I just don't know if...you know...I want to be fixing bleeding people for the rest of my life," she said kind of shyly.

"Love, just las' year ya were sayin how you wanted to cure death and heal people," he said in exasperation. "Honestly, when yer said tha' in first year, I liked you a bit more than I would 'ave in the first place. Ya can cure my death." He grinned.

"And maybe I would," she shrugged, "But, I don't know...I want a job more...I don't want to say alive...it fits though!"

"Curing death is alive," he said fairly.

"What do you want to do?" she asked him, biting her lip.

"You know I dunno Starr." His bad boy agitation was back again as he rolled his eyes, tired of trying to comfort the uncomfortable. "I wanna be a mercenary of sorts I suppose. Catch and interrogate withou 'aving the rules of the bloody ministry on me."

"See, that is alive, that is exciting, I don't like rules either, you know that, Merlin knows how but you do, Mr. Insensitive," she smirked, playfully pushing him and for once, he did not think about reacting about it.

"Really though, if ya cure death, bring me back to life, promise?" he joked.

"Promise," she said seriously. He thought she was joking but at the same time, she thought he was serious and she would happily bring a friend back to life; she did enjoy the concept of zombies.

Little did either know that the day would come that he was cursed by his own employers, or masters, and she was there to rob his corpse of that house and bring him back to life with one little potion...and he would breathe, not as a zombie but as a human being thriving to murder those who had slain him.


	4. Dance with the Devil: Talk dirty to me?

"I promise." Her voice echoed in her dream and she saw the bad boy Slytherin fall into an abyss but there he was again and a dragon slashed him. He came back, smiling this time and she murdered him. Adarte woke up immediately, looking around the Ravenclaw dormitory, sweating and tangled in sheets and she groaned, falling back onto the four poster.

"Wass wrong?" Kim murmured.

"Woke up," Adarte grumbled.

The next morning, Scabior was staring at himself in the mirror after a warm shower, his towel around his waist and he frowned. He pulled his eyes away and went to get dressed in his uniform but with his nice jacket over it. He went out of the commons and to the Great Hall, feeling the desire for an entire feast in his stomach and he may well have done so if it weren't for the house elves replacing every bit of it.

"'ello mate," he sleepily said to Macnair as he joined him.

"Alright? You want to come to Quidditch practice with me? We have two open spots," he said enthusiastically.

Scabior gave him a look. "Why the 'ell not?" he grumbled and he followed Macnair out onto the field where the other Slytherins were with their brooms. Snape was over in the stands with Lily Evans and Potter and his gang were talking in the opposite stands, Potter looking outraged but also attempting to impress the nonlooking redhead.

Adarte was a chaser, he knew and was not surprised to see that the Ravenclaw captain was arguing with Slytherins' about something. He smirked. She was standing passively with her Comet in hand, rolling her eyes at the situation.

A few rude words must have been said because the next thing Scabior saw from the corner of his eye was that the two captains were wrestling about the ground and Adarte was attempting to break it up physically and by shouting at them.

"You bloody wankers, get a hold of yourself!" Was the first intelligable phrase he heard from her and he chuckled to himself, not anticipating Macnair paying attention. "Play each other for the field, sweet fanny adams you are all babies!" Scabior had not heard her swear like that even the slightest since second year when he pulled a cruel prank on one of her friends and she ended up breaking him where the sun does not shine; that made him particularly happy that magic was real.

"Think that's funny?" Macnair asked, raising his eyebrow.

"One girl against two blokes? Yeah," Scabior said unashamed, and when he looked again, they must have come to some sort of compromise because they were being...civil. Well, as civil as opponents of their maturity get.

"If you ever get to that level Scabior, I will twist your tits and glue them to the floor," she said, passing him hotly since apparently she was not allowed to play with them for that day or something.

"Watch it with me love, 'm not doing anything," he said, patting the ground next to him. She took a deep breath but decided to do it anyways.

"Sorry you had to see that. Feltner is an arsehole with jelly bollocks," she grumbled and she took one more calming breath and smiled, "So are you trying out or are you just watching your friends practice beating everybody up?"

"Not funny," he said but not as impatiently as he could have; it was oddly reassuring to know she could still swear like that. "I'm just 'ere to work off my feastuva breakfast."

"So you do that by sitting around talking to mudbloods?" she asked easily.

"You don't git to call yerself that," he firmly said, giving her a look she saw on him often but it was usually towards others. She kept looking at him, waiting for him to answer her question. "I usually swim in the mornins but Macnair asked me if I could come out 'ere. Not a load of fun for me."

"Then let's go swimming. I don't need to break up a pig fight...I mean...a fight," she said, "It will be hard to stop being mean now."

"Ye mean a pig fight Starr and I enjoy yer swearin," he said, unembarassed, "'ow about tha' swim love?" She smiled very slightly to herself, getting up and dusting herself off and they went off to the lake together.

"Ye think you were being mean?" Scabior asked as they walked the edge together and he removed his jacket.

"I was a bit, I didn't need to swear him out did...hey!" He had pushed her into the lake with a grin on his face.

"Todger!" she said and she pulled his legs, tripping him and dragged him in just as he was about to sit up. He thrashed around but finally made it to the top, gasping for breath, taken by surprise.

"Th' good old days eh?" he smirked and he swimmed out.

"I don't remember ever agreeing to be around you while you were by the lake though," she said pointedly.

"No but it 'appened nonetheless," he answered loudly so she could hear. She then went to the edge as he swam on his back.

"Arse," Adarte murmured.

"Wha' was that love?" he asked but the expression on his face made her think he knew exactly what she had said.

She lifted herself up out of the lake, sitting on the damp dirt and she watched him for a while and he was at peace. There was no way she could think of that he could be so vile in that state but he was that kind of person and her rationale beat out her observations.

"Ye gonna just stare at me?" he called, annoyed and she averted her eyes. She made herself busy with taking off her robe so her wand could stay dry and she took off her shoes and socks but the skirt remained on; she was not going to give him more to taunt her with even though she could turn it against him.

"Ya know yer knickers are red?" he asked, smirking and she rolled her eyes, sliding into the lake.

"Ye know yer a baby?" she retorted, swimming to catch up with him and she did a fair job even considering how little she swam.

"Mockin me now mudblood?" he asked, glaring.

"And what is wrong with my blood sweet cheeks?" she countered, blocking him off as she swam passed him and he growled, going around, determined to beat her and he did, not that there was a finish line. "What did you say?"

"Nothing," he answered.

"Exactly. There is nothing wrong with my blood," Adarte said victoriously.

"It's jus' you," he deadpanned.

"Ouch," she sarcastically responded, swimming away from him.

"You are still a mudblood," he made sure she knew.

"Oh yes, of course," she said, kicking so she was upright just in time for him to see her roll those hated eyes.

He found him staring moments later and she stared back in utter confusion, unsure if she should look away or stare him down. He cursed under his breath and turned away and swam out even further.

"Yeah, um...don't go out too far, the squid is probably awake," she said quickly, blinking and she found the shore again, lifting herself up and out.

"The squid can bonk its tentacles," he said, rolling his eyes.

"You know it's rather tacky to swear in front of a lady," Adarte teased.

"No lady I knows jumps in a lake wearin white, no lady dares let me see 'er knickers are red like fire," he countered, mimicking her tone. "If you were a lady, 'm not sure if I woulda liked ye."

"Aw, Scabior actually likes someone," she taunted.

"I like anyone 'oo swears like ye do," he retorted, swimming towards her so he would not have to be so loud.

"Swearing is the hump?" she smirked.

"An' a lady is never tha' crude," Scabior pointedly said, pulling himself out of the water and he waved himself dry, "Ya coming?"

"Where to?" she asked, standing up.

"Dry up and see 'ow the game 'as turned up," he answered as she dried all her clothes out and so they walked, her holding her shoes in her hand and her bright bra no longer obvious to the looking eye.

It turned out the Ravenclaw team lost and had to scatter but Adarte did not mind because she would have been the death of her chaser captain with the temper she had displayed that morning. The Slytherins were flying all over the place, getting enough practice in to beat all the other teams at the same game.

"I should leave you to your...whatever you're doing," Adarte told Scabior, looking him in the eye which he decided he was not comfortable with but stared back stubbornly anyhow; she really had to stop having entrancing eyes.

"Sure," he nodded without any thought of what else to say.

"YOU SWEAR ME OUT THEN YOU DITCH THE GAME, WHICH WE LOSE AND NOW WE DON'T HAVE ANY PRACTICE IN TODAY?! ARE YOU TRYING TO GIVE THE SLYTHERIN TEAM THE CUP WHICH THEY HAVE WON FOUR YEARS IN A ROW SO FAR?" Feltner bellowed in her face during lunch so everybody could see.

"'e is wrong if 'e thinks 'e can get to 'er," Scabior said to himself, smirking at the situation going on two tables away.

"I AM SO SICK OF ALL THE CODSWOLLUP YOU PUT ON THIS TEAM!" Feltner was saying at that particular time.

"She will break down and cry, she is so sweet," Macnair said, putting a galleon and a licorice wand on the table.

"She can 'andle it," Scabior argued, "Ye saw 'er earlier."

"Maybe," she said loudly but not yelling, "Our team needs a decent captain, not one who wants to roll around with the other team's captain before thinking properly for the team. Perhaps the problem is that you don't have the bullocks to make the right move, and Feltner your captaincy, if you listened to some of us, you would know that by now and we would have a badass team!"

It was quiet, especially at the Ravenclaw table but not at the Slytherin table at all because everyone knew what had happened at the Quidditch pitch at seven o clock that morning.

"YOU ARE OFF THE BLOODY TEAM!" he yelled.

"Fine, me too," Kim Jones said, standing up with Adarte.

"She's right," Lance Duran agreed, standing as well, crossing his arms across his chest and two other people on the team did the same.

"Dominic," he warned the second year boy.

"I was going to stay until you said that," Dominic said, squaring his jaw, obviously not wanting to take sides.

"Come on," Feltner said but they all simultaneously turned their backs and walked out of the Hall. "I can get a new team anyways!" They did not reply.

"Damn, she 'as power," Scabior said, sort of realizing it for the first time. He had known before but it was stronger in her now. Unfortunately that also made her look, in his eye, more attractive so he had to curse himself for even thinking about the mudblood looking remotely like a witch.


End file.
